


Turning Tables

by kaileidohscope



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Jongin, accidental pregnacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 15:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaileidohscope/pseuds/kaileidohscope
Summary: Jongin knew they’d used protection; vividly remembers Kyungsoo putting it on (or rather, he remembers putting it on Kyungsoo, but that’s not important). He was a gazillion percent sure that there was no possible chance of conception—they’d used contraception… It just wasn’t possible.A series of pink lines, plus signs, and blunt digital ‘Pregnant’s would like to argue with his little assertion.





	Turning Tables

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. No, I'm not against abortion. Although I do find it a bit sad, I believe it should be completely up to the person having the baby to decide whether or not to go through with it. It's completely fine, and I find nothing wrong with it.
> 
> 2\. Kyungsoo's nickname, "Qua" is from a tumblr post. contact me and I'll link you to it!

Jongin had just wanted to be considerate – since Kyungsoo literally just had a baby cut out of his abdomen a few weeks prior to that night, and was still sore. Jongin didn’t want to cause his spouse any extra pain or possibly pop his mostly healed stitches during their first coital session in months, so it seemed like the obvious option. He wasn’t often on the receiving side of things, but if it called for the comfortable pleasure of his beloved, he’d happily bend over any day (so long as the situation was appropriate, of course).

He _knew_ they’d used protection; vividly remembers Kyungsoo putting it on (or rather, he remembers _putting it on Kyungsoo_ , but that’s not important). He was a gazillion percent sure that there was no possible chance of conception—they’d used _contraception_ … It just wasn’t possible.

A series of pink lines, plus signs, and blunt digital ‘ _Pregnant_ ’s would like to argue with his little assertion.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Jongin whined to himself as he rubbed his forehead, praying the positives would somehow re-figure themselves into negatives. It wasn’t happening, though. They remained the same – leering up at him; mocking him, practically screaming _“you’re pregnant which means you will have to be split open with your guts and organs being removed with blood everywhere just like Kyungsoo had to do in about nine months congrats! :)”_

Contemptuous smiley and all. Jongin felt close to dying in that moment.

He grabbed a handful of the blasted plastic sticks—he’d bought about ten—and chucked the majority of them in the trash bin next to the toilet. He left a total of three in the sink: one showing the duel lines, one showing a simple plus sign, and another with the tormenting word _‘pregnant’_ plainly spelled out.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. _This wasn’t part of the plan_.

Both he and Kyungsoo had wanted just one child, and Kyungsoo had agreed to carry said child due to Jongin’s “acute” case of lockiophobia.

(Quotations because Jongin insisted it’s only mild—even though he covered his ears at the mere _mention_ of the pain during childbirth, and had blacked out in the operating room after peeking over the curtain during Kyungsoo’s C-section. They’d cut the elder right open like a zipper, from navel to pelvic bone, with some organs pushed out of the way (Jongin likes to exaggerate on this part), with so much blood everywhere, and then there was their little Sehun, and then the world went black for poor Jongin.)

“Oh no.” The room was beginning to feel humid and stuffy, so Jongin paced through their shared bedroom and out into the living room, fanning himself madly and muttering curses under his breath.

Kyungsoo was in the kitchen currently cooking himself a grilled cheese sandwich, while two month old Sehun was snoozing in his bouncy chair set safely in the middle of the table. From this angle, he could see Kyungsoo’s back view and dainty shoulders – hear the man’s soft humming as he flicked off a burner and moved to get a plate.

Jongin took one glance at their son, and his inner turmoil vocalized to dramatic sob-like groans as he covered his face and swiveled around to pace the other direction.

“What’re you wollaring about?” Kyungsoo chided, eying Sehun to make sure his Father’s wailing wasn’t disturbing his slumber, blindly shoveling his grilled cheese from the pan and onto a paper plate.

More garbled sounds of despair were his answer.

“ _Shhhh_ you’re gonna wake Sehun up,” Kyungsoo set his lunch aside and moved to enter the living room where his husband was still pacing and observably distraught. “What’s the matter – what?”

Jongin flumped down onto the couch, fisting his hair in his hands and shaking his head repeatedly like a child throwing a tantrum. It was only when Kyungsoo continued standing there, questioning and evidently concerned, that Jongin thrust a finger accusingly toward their bedroom.

As Kyungsoo rushed to investigate, Jongin mushed his hands over his face in anguish because _why is this happening to **him** of all people?!_

He can’t have a baby! He can’t even _imagine_ going through that! The risk, the pain, the blood, the trauma—he can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t—

“Jongin…!” Kyungsoo spoke up softly, nonplus clearly in his voice as he scuttled back into the room. Jongin peeked through his fingers, and the shorter was staring down at the three test sticks pinched between his thumbs and fingers. “Jongin, this is—y-you’re sure? These could be faulty.”

“I took fifty, and they all said the same.” The younger muffled into his palms.

“There was only six in the bin.” Kyungsoo mused, turning the digital _‘pregnant’_ one on the side to properly read it.

“How could this happen Kyungsoo, I-I don’t understand—we used a condom and everything, it doesn’t make any sense! I can’t be pregnant – it’s impossible!”

“There’s only an eighty-five percent chance—”

_“They’re supposed to work though!”_ Jongin huffed, throwing a couch pillow across the room in spite of nothing in particular. The condom label factory, probably.

Abruptly, he pushed himself up from the couch and continued his frazzled pacing.

Kyungsoo sighed softly, watching empathetically. “It’s not the end of world, Jong, you—”

“It _is_ , Qua!” Jongin stressed, whirling around towards the elder, and Kyungsoo was surprised to see the man’s eyes where bloodshot and puffy—a rarity given Jongin wasn’t one to cry often in their relationship. Neither of them were, really.

Jongin sniffled, wiping at his nose and shaking his head. “I can’t do this, Soo, this is—I-I’m not—Y-You should’ve—You _shouldn’t’ve_ have seduced me that night! This is your fault!”

Kyungsoo snorted at that, looking scandalized even though there was no real menace in Jongin’s voice (or at least not _enough_ owing to the fact that the latter was getting a bit snotty-nosed and sounded more childish than anything).

“You were the one _literally_ coming onto me that night, Jongin, don’t try to spin this around. I’m innocent.” Kyungsoo riposted, crossing his arms as Jongin flumped down onto the carpet – right there in the middle of living room floor.

“Well you shouldn’t’ve _let_ me, at least! This would’ve never happened.” Jongin whined the last part, the syllable dragging out into a high pitch before squeaking out to silence. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, slouched and sniveling (and pitiful).

You have to understand that Jongin is never like this—never so vulnerable. In fact, Kyungsoo remembers a time in their early days when Jongin had told him to “man up” after the older had squealed and flung himself away from a little spider descending from the ceiling. (Kyungsoo, of course, punched the shit out of him for that – but only after Jongin properly dispensed of the spider). The only other time he’d _really_ seen Jongin crying was that one rough patch resulting in a brief breakup and the first time he’d held Sehun.

To say Kyungsoo was a bit at a loss of what to do was an understatement.  Jongin was reeling into hysterics.

“Kyungsoo, I can’t—” He kept repeating it, quaveringly, trembling as he swayed, weeping into his hands. “I can’t do this—I can’t—Kyungsoo I can’t, I can’t—It’s too scary I can’t do it—I can’t do it— _I can’t—_ Please Kyungsoo I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t please—”

Kyungsoo’s gaze softened, orbs taking in the younger’s shaken appearance with a dull ache in his chest. He swallowed conclusively, kneeling down to gently stroke the crown of Jongin’s auburn hair. “You don’t have to, Jongin.” He crooned, soft and tender, setting the tests aside and lowering himself onto his knees to be at a better level with his husband. “I won’t make you, love, you don’t have to.”

Jongin lifted his head in favor of wrapping his arms around what he could reach of Kyungsoo, nearly dragging him closer to bury his face into the shorter’s itchy sweater (or soak him with snot and tears; either way). Kyungsoo simply allowed him, though, soothing Jongin’s back with wide circles and soft shushing.

Sehun was still sleeping soundly in his bouncer by the time Jongin had calmed down enough for Kyungsoo to send him off to lay down (and to finally eat his now cold grilled cheese). Kyungsoo smiled tiredly at him, carefully raising him from the bouncy and cradling him close. (Sehun barely startled from his rest, the little tyke.)

 

******

 

The next morning, Jongin woke up to Kyungsoo brushing his hair aside, and pressing a prolonged kiss to the side of his forehead—an uncommon occurrence (Jongin disliked being babied most the time)—but it was more comforting than disgruntling. He was feeling groggy and offset, and still emotionally and physically drained from all the crying the night previous. They exchanged soft mumbles of _‘good morning’_ and _‘how are you feeling’_ before Sehun screamed his demand for attention from the adjoining room.

Jongin laid there in the meantime – rolling onto his back to stretch out like a starfish, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, then closing them again to snooze a bit.

When Kyungsoo returned, he had Sehun held in his arms – pacifying him with a bottle of formula and some light bouncing. He lifted one knee onto the bed, carefully hoisting himself up while bringing the other up and settling back on his shins to sit.

Jongin shifted onto his side to face his beloveds, folding one arm comfortably to his chest and reaching the other out to gently caress the top of Sehun’s head—covered in fine brown hair just starting to grow in; an affectionate smile ghosting over his features that mirrored Kyungsoo’s.

“I called the clinic this morning,” Kyungsoo started up softly. Jongin took a glance at the digital clock on their nightstand—an hour passed noon. He’d slept in, as usual.

“Yeah.” He hummed in acknowledgment, retracting his hand to adjust and snuggle his pillow in the fading wisps of his serene sleepiness.

“The earliest they can have you in is Friday.” Kyungsoo informed, gazing down at Sehun as his little almond eyes fought sleep. It was only Sunday, so there was a little of a week’s wait. He heard rather than saw Jongin nod in understanding—probably still too groggy to bother the effort of forming words. “You’re appointment’s at nine-thirty, so we’ll leave here by eight forty-five, okay?”

Jongin gave a half-hearted groan in reply as he flipped onto his front, face smushed into the pillow.

“By eight forty-five I mean _in the morning_ , so you better have your lazy butt up by then, okaay?”

“…….”

_“Okaaaayyyyyyy?”_ Kyungsoo leaned over, patting Jongin’s bottom with excessive force and playfulness in his voice.

Jongin grumbled in feigned discomfort, though his smile could practically be heard through the façade as he wiggled around in his burrito of blankets—which then Kyungsoo only patted firmer to the point of spanking.

_“Okaaaayyyyyyyyyy, I said?”_ The shorter trilled gleefully, somehow simultaneous keeping Sehun at bay whilst attacking his husband with more patting (spanking).

“Okay, okay! I’ll be up!” Jongin huffed out in a laugh, sitting up in the slightest to paw Kyungsoo’s hand away in little bats. “ _Sheesh!_ ”

Kyungsoo chuckled, getting off the bed to make his leave toward the living room.

“That was assault!” Jongin proclaimed, throwing his pointer finger in air whilst clutching his pillow to his chest.

“ _Please_ , I know your kinks.” Kyungsoo sing-songed, having to raise his voice just a tad due the distance of rooms.

“Don’t talk about that kinda stuff in front of Sehun!”

Kyungsoo’s laughter rang through the house, and Jongin’s offset feelings were soothed for a while.

 

******

 

Monday was eventful. Jongin decided to head into work (he taught ballet at the local dance center downtown), but had ended up being sent home after hurling his breakfast all over the wall-length mirror after one too many pirouettes. He didn’t want to give in to the dizziness and inevitable morning sickness, but there was no denying it.

As long as that little tadpole fetus was inside him, there’d be no ballet and definitely no pirouetting. He’d have to take the week off until everything was taken care of.

The offset feeling didn’t stay distant for long. It was there, as Jongin sprawled himself over the couch on Tuesday and entertained himself with trashy TV shows (occasionally musing about who he thought the father was or whether he believed someone was cheating or not).

It only served as a distraction for a little while, though. Kyungsoo was off at the bakery (he worked as a cake designer—the thought of cake was making Jongin hungry), and he usually brought Sehun along with him because the shop was never too busy in the gap periods between holidays, and Jongin had a hard time dealing with Sehun’s occasional unpacifiable moments. (Learning takes time, after all.)

Jongin was stuck at home, taking the week off work for obvious reasons. He had nothing to do. He was bored, kind of hungry, and just didn’t feel right.

After twiddling his thumbs and munching on some Whale Crackers, he decided to go down to the bakery to pass the time (because he wanted to see Kyungsoo, definitely not because he wanted some cupcakes).

Luckily, the bakery was just a block or so over, so it wasn’t too long of a walk before Jongin was carefully tiptoeing his way through the door—though his attempt at possibly jump-scaring his lover was foiled before it began when the loud bell hung over the entrance announced his arrival. (He scolded himself for forgetting the backdoor was silent, therefore the best scare tactic.)

“Welcome to _Qua Qakes_ , I’ll be with you in a moment!” Kyungsoo’s chipper voice announced from the back, an octave higher than usual—the voice he used to make good impressions and especially when speaking to women.

Jongin snickered mirthfully at the thought that his husband was so two-faced in front of strangers (in a nice, adorable sort of way, naturally), and looked up as the short man pushed through the swinging door that lead to the front, wiping his powdery hands down the front of his apron and his owl eyes not yet focused on his assumed ‘customer’.

“Yes, hello, how can I help you to—oh—Jongin?” Kyungsoo blinked blankly before a lazy smile tugged on the corner of his lips, voice falling to its true warmth and raspy hum. “Didn’t expect you to come by today.” He said, pleasantly surprised.

“Ah, well, I had nothing else to do, so.” Jongin shrugged noncommittedly as he slid onto one of the bar stools placed before the front counter, swiveling around to face the other with an innocent smile. “What’re you making make back there?”

“Nothing _you_ can eat, love,” Kyungsoo stated, chuckling at the younger’s scowl of disappointment and moving to wash his hands in the sink. “Why—craving some sweets?” He inquired knowingly. Kyungsoo looked over his shoulder at Jongin, raising a brow, and Jongin’s face scrunched up.

“It’s not _‘cravings’_ okay, I just wanted something sweet; it has nothing to do with the developing zygote currently sucking the nutrients out of my organs and causing me inevitable illness during the morning hours and keeping me from work.” Jongin sniffed casually and brushed his knuckle against the side of his nose.

“It’s a baby, Jongin.”

“Scientifically speaking, it’s only a fetus. Literally speaking, it’s the exact definition of a parasite— _‘an organism that lives in or on another organism and benefits by deriving nutrients at the host's expense’_.” Jongin corrected matter-of-factually. “Seriously, Kyungsoo, you just had a baby and you don’t know these things?”

“Well sorry that I wasn’t unerringly searching the internet for every name to call our baby besides a _baby._ ”

“That’s because it’s not a baby, Kyungsoo.”

“Well he or she is not an ‘it’, either.”

“It’s technically not a he or she, _either_.”

“Whatever with your scientific shit, all I know is that to me, it’s a baby, and that you are craving cupcakes, so here is your cupcake” (Jongin ogled the iced treat as Kyungsoo placed it pointedly in front of him— _how did Kyungsoo know he wanted a cupcake? And when did Kyungsoo even get a cupcake??_ ) “I have things to do, so I’m sorry but I’ve got to get back to work.” He raised himself onto his tiptoes and pecked Jongin’s forehead before whisking off towards the back, thrumming over his shoulder: “I love you!”

Jongin pouted down at his cupcake, scooping a dollop of the white icing onto his pinky for a taste. He could’ve moaned wantonly at the piquant flavor melting over his tongue, but he was too busy shoveling another scoop into his mouth. _Damn_ did he want a _fucking_ cupcake. _Shit_.

Jongin stopped in the midst of cramming the miniature sweet into his face, and slowly raised his gaze to where Kyungsoo was standing in the doorway, with arms crossed and a smug smirk.

“… … … …”

_“Shawddop! Ad-eass iz nawt bobal teee!”_ Cupcake crumbs flew everywhere, making the scene twice as amusing for the laughing baker who rolled his eyes and made to actually continue his work.

 

**

Wednesday found Jongin stood before the full length mirror in his and Kyungsoo’s room. He had one o the duel wardrobe doors open, staring at the reflective glass mounted there.

He was clad in only his boxers and a loose-fitting tee shirt. He tugged lightly on the edges of the shirt as if straightening it out, brushing his hands down the front of it to bring the maroon fabric taut over his anterior.

He turned to the right; scrunched his brows and chewed the inside of his cheek. He turned to the left; lifted his shirt up to his ribs and tilted his head.

With an unresolved sigh, the ballet teacher faced the front, and tucked the bottom of his shirt into the collar, making it into an ill-fitting crop-top sort of thing. Both hands now free, he placed them on his belly and turned back to the right.

Jongin didn’t look pregnant—not exactly. If anything, he just looked a little bloated. His once flat abs were now just the slightest bit rounded toward the base—but it was fundamentally unnoticeable unless you were to sit down and visibly compare the before and after.

Kyungsoo had been a bit rounder, now that Jongin recalls. The older male had taken forty pictures throughout his entire pregnancy—one for each week—and each picture was pasted on individual pages in a scrap book labeled “Pregnancy”. (Kyungsoo bought a huge set of blank photo books, stating that he plans to have one for each of Sehun’s birthdays—one for the pregnancy, one for his first year, one for his second year, and so on. So far, he was about on month/page three of “Year One”.)

Jongin scuttled over to where the “Pregnancy” photo book was laid open on the bed, flipping to the page titled ‘two months’ for reference. The page was decorated with little blue elephants and pink giraffes and such. In black pen, Kyungsoo’s handwriting scribbled little notes like: _Choco flavored bubble tea is a necessity with Sehun. He loves it._ Little details like: _Morning sickness lasts from about 7AM to 11AM on a good day!_ And so on.

Taking the book into his hands, he carried it back over to the mirror to juxtapose. He turned to a slight angle and propped one hand up against his back—copying the pose in which a five week pregnant Kyungsoo was doing in the snapshot pasted on the tinted page, gazing through long eyelashes at his slightly chubby belly with a cherubic smile gracing his features.

Honestly, Jongin didn’t know what he was doing; why he was even bothering with the matter at hand. It’d started at the grocery store earlier that day, when he’d stopped at the baby formula isle with little Sehun snoozing in his car seat rigged to the front of the shopping cart.

He’d been in the middle of comparing labels when a woman walked up beside him—her fairly showing belly peeking out from the hem of her blouse. Jongin guessed she was about six or seven months along, but didn’t get much more time to wonder about it before he was raising onto his toes to take the plastic container in which the woman was reaching for on a high shelf.

“Thank you.” She smiled sheepishly, taking the formula into her own hands with a grateful bow once Jongin had handed it over—or, she half-bowed considering her protruding belly wouldn’t let her tilt too much.

“It’s not a problem.” He brushed off with a light shake of his head, and a question popped out of his mouth before he could even register what he was asking: “How far along are you?”

“Six months.” The woman answered with a tired yet happy sigh, gently patting her tummy with her free hand. “This little rascal’s been kicking me all morning, too. I swear, she about broke my rib three times!”

Jongin laughed briskly at that, saying a soft: “How cute.”

“How far are you?” She then asked, ever curious with her kind eyes and subtle smile. Jongin nearly barfed. He didn’t though, clearing his throat instead.

“Oh—Uh, I’m not.” He chuckled awkwardly, drumming his fingers against the plastic container in his hands and biting the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t lying, technically. He really wouldn’t be in a few days. There was no point in leading this mother-to-be into believing he was going to be a father-to-be (again) when he just simply _wasn’t_.

She looked as if she’d just seen a ghost; blanching before turning a bright shade of red. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I-I just assumed and all, I-I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, it’s alright. No harm done; no offense taken!” Jongin assured, smiling brightly as if for extra emphasis.

The woman still looked a bit iffy, but smiled dimly and nodded. “Oh, alright, well… Thank you, again.” She offered a bit more of genuine smile, and lifted the case of formula showingly.

“You’re welcome, it was no problem.” He bowed his head in farewell, and the woman teetered off with a bow and smile of her own. Jongin watched as her husband—he assumed so—greeted her like he’d been searching far and low, which he probably had been, before returning back to his earlier mental decision on which formula to get for Sehun. (He bought both, in the end.)

How he ended up standing in front of a mirror – scrutinizing his stomach for a baby bump – was beyond him. He didn’t know what he was expecting—or rather or not he even wanted there to be prominent bump or not. Either way, he didn’t feel any more resolved than he did before.

At the same time that he was praying for a flat stomach, he was also kind of hoping for… Well, it’s not like he _wanted_ it to be noticeable, he just…

Jongin flipped through a few pages of the photo book, watching as Kyungsoo’s belly gradually grew bigger with each picture—smiling warmly despite the _weird_ feeling in his head. It felt something like envy, but was more like pensive wistfulness.

He didn’t know. He honestly had no idea. It was weird. Wanting the evidence of pregnancy to be both minuscule and salient was weird. Wondering what it felt like to feel a baby’s kick from the inside was weird. Imagining what it’d be like to have a semi-permanent globe for midsection was weird. Even fathoming the fact that something was currently growing inside of him was weird.

And the weirdest thing was that all these ‘weird things’ were making him feel the slightest tinge of warmth in his chest, and it was just **_weird_** and he didn’t like it. (But he did like it, and that was also weird.)

 

 --

 

“What do baby kicks feel like? On the inside, I mean.” Jongin casually asked during dinner later that evening, hiding his sheepishness with a façade of nonchalance. He pushed the food around his plate, eyes following the movements.

Kyungsoo hummed thoughtfully and propped his chin against his hand, taking a moment to muse. “Well, it’s kind of like butterflies. Or when you’re in the car and you go over a bump and you get that tumbling feeling in your stomach. It’s like that. It kind of tickles before they start punching and kicking your lungs.” He chuckled warmly, and Jongin took a moment of sheltered envy when a look of keenness splayed out over Kyungsoo expression.

He’d already looked back down to his food when Kyungsoo looked at him. “Why’re you asking?”

“Just ‘cause.” Jongin shrugged noncommittedly, putting forth his nonchalance once more. He missed the extended beats of Kyungsoo’s stare, as well as the smallest hint of an au fait smile that twitched at the corner of his lips.

 

**

 

Thursday was a slow catastrophe. It started off alright – at seven, when Kyungsoo’s alarm went off for work. Jongin didn’t allow this, though. He managed to bribe his spouse into some extended cuddling (and maybe some R rated antics), but it only lasted forty-five minutes or so before Kyungsoo was reluctantly dragging himself out of bed (and Jongin’s daily nausea kicked in).

Jongin spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch, holding Sehun on his chest and dazedly watching Bob Ross paint on TV. (Kyungsoo had been in a rush that morning and wasn’t able to bring Sehun along, therefore leaving Jongin to watching over him for the day (a rarity)).

The show was kind of a trip, what with this man having an Afro and talking about trees and how ‘maybe they had a little bush friend living beside them or maybe some happy clouds in the sky but that was up to you to decide’ and he made some weird noises and talked real soft and he looked like a hippy but a cool hippy that Jongin kind of wished he had as a grandpa.

The only times he moved from his position on the couch was to readjust Sehun when he started squirming, to change Sehun’s diaper, or to fix Sehun a bottle. Other than those few things, he didn’t budge a single inch.

He just laid there, with his son cradled to his chest, and his fingers dancing about the loose strings of his sweatpants; occasionally canting his thumb back just a bit to get a gentle feel of the ever so subtle swell of his lower belly.

It was when Bob Ross’ Joy of Painting ended that Jongin was thrown for a loop. At first he’d thought it was just a commercial, with an older woman promoting the ‘Faith of God and the Lord Jesus Christ’—but when it lasted more than sixty seconds, Jongin knew it was more than just an ad.

A slightly younger woman came onto the screen some minutes later, holding pamphlets in her hands and bringing up the touchy subject of abortion. Saying that even though the body dies, the soul does not. And that your baby – the baby in which you hadn’t given a chance at life – has a soul, and stating that your baby is watching you from Heaven.

‘Your baby _knows_ you.’

‘Your baby _cares_ for you.’

‘Your baby _loves_ you, and they _forgive_ you, and they can’t wait to _see_ you.’

And now Jongin’s insides felt asunder and his eyes were wet, and hoisted himself up (careful to hold Sehun in place) to snatch the remote and switch the TV off. Everything went downhill from that point on. At first, it was just some stoic strolling around aimlessly, lightly bouncing a wide awake Sehun; Jongin cogitating himself into a daze.

Overthinking turned to a twisted feeling in his chest, which then resulted in tears. Nonstop tears. Tears that just kept flowing and flowing and Jongin was sobbing (which caused Sehun to join in on the fuss) and he just couldn’t stop and Sehun started throwing a tantrum and couldn’t be soothed and it just wasn’t a good time.

This went on for about an hour before he pulled the previously missing house phone from the couch cushions and dialed up the only person he could think of to help his utter turmoil—his husband.

Kyungsoo’s voice was the mock chipper and happy tone he used when answering the bakery phone, “Hello, this is Qua Qakes Bakery! How may I help you?”

“Kyungsoo—” Jongin wheezed into the phone, sounding snotty with his quivering voice, and took a moment to wail melodramatically.

“Jongin? What’s happening? Why’re you crying—” Kyungsoo’s surprise was clear. In the background of Jongin’s sobbing, Sehun’s fussing was highly audible.

“Kyungsoo, I—I dunno I was watching TV and it was Bob Ross and he was painting trees and talking about bushes and beautiful sky colors and everything was happy and Sehun was sleeping and it was nice and then this chick came on and was all talking about how aborted babies are in freaking Heaven and they’re like watching you and they love you and how you shouldn’t abort your baby and it was so sad and then I started crying and dammit I’m crying and why am I crying and I’m not supposed to be crying and I don’t want to be crying and Sehun won’t stop crying and the lady on TV is crying and everyone’s crying and I just wanna stop crying Kyungsoo— _goddammit I just really need a fucking cupcake right now”_

There was an elongated silence—and then Jongin started bawling again.

(Needless to say: Kyungsoo closed the Bakery early that night.)

 

**\--**

 

The sight that greeted Kyungsoo when he arrived home was—although harrowing—downright pathetic (in the kindest use of the word). He wasn’t sure if he should immediately tend to his spouse or take a moment snapchat this shit.

Jongin was on the kitchen floor; his hair was mussed and sticking out in all sorts of directions, his shirt was completely soaked (in what Kyungsoo assumed was either pee or baby formula (Sehun liked to unleash _that_ little weapon only _after_ you’ve taken his diaper off), and he was barely holding their son in one arm while holding a bottle in his hand with the other.

Sehun wasn’t nursing—no, he was screaming and screeching and kicking in his father’s hold—and Jongin’s face was swollen and slightly red from all his crying and wiping of tear trails. (And yes, Jongin was still weeping.)

“Jesus, Jong.” Was the only thing Kyungsoo could mumble as he toed off his shoes and walked across the living room to the kitchen. Jongin looked up at him near desperately when he approached, his eyes bloodshot and puffy.

“I don’t know what he wants, Qua—I changed him, I bounced him, I gave him toys, he’s not eating, it’s impossible—I don’t know what to do this is impossible _I suck at everything!_ ”

Kyungsoo sighed, kneeling down and taking the eight ounce bottle from Jongin’s now slack hand lolling against the granite flooring. Putting said bottle up on the counter above them, he lightly tugged his sleeves up to his elbows and held his arms out in a beckoning gesture.

“Let me see him.” He gently instructed, taking the still screaming Sehun from Jongin. He held the little boy in one arm, reaching into the pocket of his work apron still tied around his waist to withdraw a mini cupcake; the treat adorned with baby blue frosting and wrapped protectively in saran wrap.

He offered it out to Jongin, mumbling a soft, “Here,” before leaning forward and giving the man a small peck on the lips. “Bathe and lay down. I’ll handle this.”

Jongin stayed stoically silent, eyes glazed and lips faintly trembling. (Kyungsoo tasted sweet, but Jongin was too distressed to properly appreciate this little detail.) He held the little cupcake loose in his grip, watching as the baker stood up and repositioned Sehun in his arms—holding him so the little boy could rest his head down on Kyungsoo’s dainty shoulder (which Sehun did, nuzzling against his balled little fists and the starched fabric of his father’s shirt).

The ballet teacher looked down at the cupcake; holding it in his palm as he carefully unwrapped it and disposed of the plastic wrap. The entirety of it fit in his mouth with one bite, and he took the time to slowly chew and savor it.

When he was finished, he sat there for a bit more before picking himself up and setting to do as Kyungsoo had told him to. A shower _did_ sound quite nice, at the moment.

He made his way to their bedroom, still sniffling as he gathered some clothes to change into, and started towards the connected bathroom. Only something distracted him along the way. Something in the adjourning room. A sight so sweet, Jongin had to stop in his tracks and admire it in silence.

Kyungsoo had Sehun wrapped in his arms, holding the boy to his chest and soothing his short back with continuous strokes. He was pacing slowly in front of the crib, adding light bouncing to help lull Sehun. He sang a gentle English tune, soft and tender, and so loving that even Jongin could feel the intense care and affection just by witnessing it.

Jongin didn’t understand the meaning of the foreign words, but he could just _feel_ it.

 

 _Be still and know that I'm with you_  
Be still and know that I am here  
Be still and know that I'm with you  
Be still, be still, and know  
  
When darkness comes upon you  
And covers you with fear and shame  
Be still and know that I'm with you  
And I will say your name  
  


Jongin clutched his gathered clothes in his arms, holding them up to his chest and biting his lip.

  
_If terror falls upon your bed  
And sleep no longer comes  
Remember all the words I said  
Be still, be still, and know_  
  
 _When you go through the valley_  
And the shadow comes down from the hill  
If morning never comes to be  
Be still, be still, be still  
  


There was a swelling feeling in his chest, as well as behind his eyes. It was fear, it was love, it was sadness, and it was envy. Jongin was feeling it all. He was feeling the pain seeping throughout his chest. It was because he knew he will never have that. Yes, he will help raise Sehun, he will love and cherish and teach Sehun, but he would always be a few steps behind Kyungsoo. While the little boy may love them both infinitely, he will cling to Kyungsoo more, and he will cry for Kyungsoo more.

Because there will always be a stronger bond between the birther and birthed. Kyungsoo became a father the moment he read that pregnancy test. He was a father through nine months, he knew Sehun’s habits already; knew what he liked, spent a constant with him, felt him growing day by day. Jongin became a father the first time he’d held Sehun in the delivery room. By then, he was already nine months behind. And Jongin wanted to feel that bond. Wanted to experience it for himself.

  
_If you forget the way to go  
And lose where you came from  
If no one is standing beside you  
Be still and know I am_

 

But maybe there was a way. Maybe he had a chance. Maybe it was with him right now, as his fingers skirted down to the front of his belly, to the mostly unnoticeable curve.   
  
_Be still and know that I'm with you  
Be still and know I am_

 

Before he knew it, there were tears in his tired eyes, and he clutched his clothes a little tighter as he continued to the washroom.

 

******

 

By the time he got out of the shower and was clothed in a pair of plaid bottoms, Kyungsoo was stood at the wardrobe in just his boxers – pulling one of Jongin’s plain white tees over his head as something to sleep in.

Noticing Jongin, Kyungsoo smiled gently in greeting, but the taller was too emotionally drained and lost in his thoughts to return it as he walked to the bed and crawled in. He turned onto his side, nuzzling into his pillow and tugging the thick duvet close. The bed shifted as Kyungsoo joined him, and it was only a few short moments before the elder’s bedside lamp and switched off and the man was moving about to get comfortable.

Jongin stayed still, eyes open, on his side with his back to his husband. He felt so weak, and so tired. He reached behind himself, searching blindly about the folds of the sheets before he found Kyungsoo’s hand and grabbed hold of it, pulling him closer until Kyungsoo got the gist and finally scooted nearer and draped his arm around Jongin’s side, and their fingers securely laced together; Kyungsoo’s narrow chest pressed to Jongin’s broad back, and his smooth legs brushing against finely hairy ones.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin started up softly, sweeping his thumb against Kyungsoo’s own, “For earlier, I mean…”

“It’s okay.” Kyungsoo mumbled, and it sounded like he’d just about drifted off to sleep. He gave Jongin’s fingers a reassuring squeeze, and snuggled closer. Jongin subconsciously guided their interlocked hands to his stomach, where he unwound his hold and pressed Kyungsoo’s palm flat below his navel, his own hand blanketed on top to gently hold it there.

“Am I making the right decision, Soo?” He asked, voice faintly trembling. “Is this… the right thing to do?”

Kyungsoo was quiet for so long Jongin had thought the man had fallen asleep, but eventually Kyungsoo shifted, pressing a careful kiss to Jongin’s nape and nuzzling there. He never offered an answer, only held Jongin tighter and closer, pressing tender kisses to his skin until they both drifted off.

 

**

 

Jongin was actually the first one to wake up on Friday morning. It was like a trigger; his eyes popped open before the sun could even break the horizon, and they just wouldn’t shut.

 He lied there, rubbing the sheets between his fingers and watching as Kyungsoo’s back rose and fell with each steady breath. He studied the way the moonlight illuminated through the window, and cast a faint silhouette around his beloved’s sleeping figure; how Kyungsoo’s brows furrowed only just so as he nestled his face into the plush cushion beneath it, how his arms stretched beneath said pillow and the duvet fell just short of his shoulders.

He was so beautiful and delicate, yet handsome and gallant.

Jongin started crying. Again. But he didn’t try to stop the tears. He let them drip over the bridge of his nose, and down his temple, where they got smudged away by his pillow as he shifted closer to the short male beside him – mumbling _“pathetic”_ at himself as he nudged his head under Kyungsoo’s bicep and pushed a hand against his side, forcefully yet carefully rousing the baker enough to groan and roll a bit.

He naturally coddled Jongin to his chest—where the man snuggled close, fell apart, and fell back asleep.

 

\--

 

Jongin woke up again as six forty-five – about an hour or so later. His sleeping position altered a bit, as he was now huddled against Kyungsoo’s back, with his arms brought close to his chest and his forehead to his spouse’s nape.

For a long while he only lied there; waiting to fall back asleep or just to simply rest a little longer. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to drift off. It was like a weight was holding his eyes open.

He was awake, and there was no changing it.

The ballet teacher took a minute to close his eyes and soak in the warmth radiating from Kyungsoo’s toned yet narrow back, then slowly, he pushed the blankets back and got himself out of bed – careful not to disturb the other.

The door to the nursery was slightly ajar, so Jongin silently scuttled over. He held the doorframe in his hands, leaning himself against at as he peeked inside to view his son still soundlessly sleeping in the crib.

It was a serene and somehow reassuring sight, and he gave a heavy sigh as he rested his forehead against the white framework. Sehun looked at complete peace, and Jongin stood there for several minutes – watching over the tiny boy and ruminating.

 

The offset feeling was excruciating. Far worse than it’d been the past week. Jongin felt anxious; his heart felt tight and his breathing the shallow.

Today was the day. Today, that little tadpole fetus growing inside of him would be eviscerated, and he’d have nothing to dread and nothing to worry about. It was supposed to fix everything; be the remedy for his recent restlessness—and yet… it didn’t seem like the right thing to do—didn’t _feel_ like the right thing to do.

Jongin didn’t want to. He didn’t want to get rid of his little tadpole—his parasite—his zygote—his fetus. He didn’t want to get rid of his  _baby._

He wanted him or her to stay; to grow. He wanted the morning sickness and the cravings and to feel those little kicks to his ribs and lungs. It seemed awfully crazy, but he _wanted it._

His precious miracle baby, spawn from passion and commitment and love. Kyungsoo’s baby; Sehun’s younger sibling.

 

Yes, he wanted to keep his little tadpole.

 

\--

 

Kyungsoo awoke at seven fifteen, and he awoke with a start when he reached out towards the opposite side of the bed and found it cold and empty. Jongin never woke up first, and given the circumstancing of that day—he naturally assumed the worst.

“Jongin?” He called and abruptly sat up; eyes wide and ears straining to catch any alarming noises.

At first, it was nothing but silence until the stuttering sizzle of the coffee maker sounded – to which Kyungsoo furrowed his brows and shuffled out of bed to go investigate. Entering the living room, he found the TV playing Pororo and the curtains drawn open, streaming the bright sun in through the blinds.

Jongin was there, huddled on the couch with a thick wool blanket draped around his head and covering everything else, so only his face and mussed fringe could be seen. He smiled flatly at Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo intensely stared back.

“I made you coffee.” The ballet teacher informed, tilting his head towards the kitchen. The shorter looked briefly in the direction, then looked back to his husband.

“Oh. Thanks.” He mumbled, giving a hesitant smile before going to the kitchen to retrieve his daily caffeine.

It was strange—something was off—but Kyungsoo was pleasantly surprised to find his husband up and about – and calm, for that matter. He was relieved.

“You’re up early.” He stated obviously, tone questioning as he got a cup down and took hold of the coffee mug handle.

“Yeah.” Jongin mumbled as a filler, tonguing his lower lip and twiddling his fingers.

Kyungsoo poured the coffee ‘til it nearly reached the brim of the cup, leaving just a little room for his caramel creamer and some sugar—which he added both shortly after and stirred it all together. Then, he turned towards the living room, still swirling his teaspoon around in his coffee. “… You okay?”

Jongin sighed heavily, his shoulders raising and lower back down, causing the fluffy blanket wrapped around him to follow the movements and fall from around his head to pool around his shoulders. “Qua…” His voice was soft, slightly hoarse, but still steady.

Kyungsoo walked into the living room, carefully settling himself on the couch to face his husband with supportive expectancy.

“I… don’t… want.. to go to the clinic today.”

A brief silence fell between them as Kyungsoo comprehended the words, soaking them in is logically sorting them out before he responded. “Well… We can go tomorrow if you’re not feeling up for it today.”

Jongin shook his head, turning towards the baker with an almost sheepish yet conclusive gaze. “No, I mean I… I don’t… I’m… I’ve done a lot of thinking and.. reasoning the past few days, and um… I’ve decided to… I’ve decided I want to keep it.”

Jongin’s eyes flickered up from their previously downward stare to get a glimpse of Kyungsoo’s reaction. (The other had none. He was completely blank, and Jongin didn’t know what to make of that.)

It felt like minutes before Kyungsoo finally broke from his shell-shocked gape, blinking his eyes and knitting his brows in deep worry. He reached out and set a comforting hand on Jongin’s knee. “… Are you sure? Jong, don’t feel like you have to—I’ll support you no matter what you decide – honestly. Don’t think you have to do this just because—”

“That’s why I want to, Soo. Because even though I know it’ll be really hard and stressful and I’ll probably be scared shitless, and I’ll have to take a lot of time of work—I know that you’ll be there. You’ll be my rock when I need you, and I know I can do this. I want to do this so badly. For you, and for Sehun, and myself. _I want to_.” His hand rested over Kyungsoo’s, giving it a firm squeeze.

His eyes stayed still and steady over his spouse’s, giving full confidence in his words to ensure the other would truly listen and believe him.

Kyungsoo fell back into his stoic staring again. Though Jongin could see the realization in his eyes, how the faintly glistened—and brimmed lightly with tears. Then he smiled, big and happy, and clenched his fingers around Jongin’s. He looked at their clasped hands, smiled even bigger, and gave a soft chortle.

“We’re gonna have another baby?”

Jongin smiled, lips faintly trembling but he managed to keep his tears at bay. The last thing he needed was to start crying again. He nodded his head, laughing softly at the surrealism of it all. “Yeah.”

Kyungsoo took a moment, joining the soft laughter as he dabbed his nose with a knuckle. (A cute habit Jongin adored so much.) When it set in, and splayed out, he burst with a jovial guffaw and reached out to his husband, beaming with happiness and leaking tears of joy, muttering a wobbly: “I’m so happy!”

Jongin grinning teary-eyed into the hug, nuzzling into Kyungsoo shoulder. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Jongin.” Kyungsoo reciprocated in a heartbeat, lightly rocking them from side to side and stroking his back.

 

Sehun started whining then, but it only seemed to brighten the baker up even more as he hoped up and scurried to get their son. He returned, cradling them boy (and still smiling like an idiot.)

“Guess what, my little Sehunnie! You’re gonna be a big brother! Isn’t that so exciting! Daddy’s gonna have your little sister or brother! Which means you have to take good care of them, okay? You’re gonna be the best big brother in the world!” Kyungsoo settled back on the couch next to Jongin, smiling down at the little boy that was still more than half asleep in his arms.

Jongin chortled giddily, cuddling close to Kyungsoo and resting his lips against a dainty shoulder, planting a soft kiss there and gazing down at Sehun, grinning mostly to himself.

For a while, they stayed like that. Peaceful and happy and excited; soaking in the joy of it all and savoring it. Until Jongin played pout, sinking back into the cushions while Kyungsoo busied himself with making a bottle.

 

 

“Qua… Do you have work today?” He asked, hiding his hopeful intentions.

“No, I scheduled for the shop to be close today.” He elder answered distractedly. Jongin’s pout broadened.

“Oh…”                                                 


“Why do you ask?” Kyungsoo questioned, looking over at the teacher with a withheld, knowing smirk.

“Because…” Jongin looked down at his hands, lightly touching the tips of his index fingers together, pulling the best puppy eyes he could manage. “…I really wanna cupcake right now.”

Kyungsoo sighed in feigned exasperation, and fondly rolled his eyes.

“It’s the tadpole, Soo, you can’t blame me for it.”

“Tadpole?” Kyungsoo parroted in a scoff, tone amused and brow curbed upward.

Jongin thrummed happily, lightly patting his belly with a nod of confirmation. “Yes. My little tadpole.”


End file.
